


Maintenance Check

by Nitrobot



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Playmech magazines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3366302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Evolution: Ultra Magnus sends Wheeljack to do maintenance on his ship, apparently forgetting about someone he had stashed away on board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maintenance Check

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I just realised I hadn't uploaded any of my old Wheeljack/Airachnid fics from deviantArt onto here (probably for a good reason, considering my old work certainly isn't my best...). Some others seem to like this pairing though, so I guess I'll throw this up here for them (not sure about putting any of the others up as well, but if they're not too cringe worthy I'll consider it).  
> And before anyone asks: no, I don't know how Airachnid got on Magnus' ship. I am not a smart person.

(fanart by sparkbroken-spider.tumblr.com)

 

There were few things that Wheeljack did out of the kindness of his spark. Getting himself servo-deep in engine coolant was not one of them. Now that he thought about it, the whole act in general of prying open Ultra Magnus' ship was more out of spite than anything he could come up with himself. Sure, from a peeking distance it looked like a soldier making up for bad behaviour, but there were three things that made that assumption null and void. One,  anyone creeping around in the bushes close enough to think that would find themselves struck with a minor case of 'peppered with bullet holes'. Second, the _real_ reason was that the owner of the poor ship hadn't upgraded a single part in the past... millenia or so. _'_

_Primus, no fraggin' wonder that Predaslag almost ran us down- he calls THIS a combustion chamber?!'_ Just as Wheeljack tore the offending part out, he was hit in the faceplate with another spray of coolant. Wonderful. He fought not to gag on the fluid as some of it found its way into his mouth, and he threw the sparking metal in a similar pile behind him as he wiped a hand across his face. All parts from what looked like the start of the _Golden Age_ \- all worth scrap even when they were still attached. Wheeljack would deal with those later though- now he could move onto the _interesting_ part of the ship.

Oh yeah, reason three; how could he resist the chance to sift through the good commander's precious weapon cache?

And if he didn't want bots stalking around his ride, then he would have used locks on the platform door... stronger locks, at least. Ones that could take a bit more than... three silenced plasma mines. Four if he counted the one with the faulty fuse. And if the boss ever asked why the platform was currently scraping up dirt and hanging off one hinge... Scraplets. Yep, that'd work.

"Ohoho, where are you, sweet beauties..." Wheeljack muttered under his breath as he looked around the main deck, taking in the control console and other doors leading off. The weapons, he remembered, were stored behind the bare back wall. And with just a _tad_ of tampering, they'd come spinning back around in all their twelve gauge glory. Just as Wheeljack was priming his grenade though, a scuffling sound through the walls stilled his servo. An eye ridge twitched as he strained to hear it again- this time clearly coming from one of the side doors. A scarred frown formed itself as his servo switched to a ready blaster, peds shuffling around to pointed towards the door and inch him closer.  He eyed the pressure pad at the side of the door frame and pressed himself against the wall before pushing down on it, lunging into a shooter-stance as he ducked into the doorway. As soon as he saw where the noise came from though, the whirr of his blaster died away as his frown did, now replaced with a deadly smirk.

"Now honey, didn't your momma tell ya' not to get into ships with strange mechs?"

"I wouldn't expect a _son of a glitch_ to know anything about that," Airachnid spat as he struggled against the chains lashing her arms and legs to the edges of Ultra Magnus' berth. Wheeljack dismissed her insult with a chuckle that skimmed over her protoform- he noted that some of her armour was lying strewn across the floor. So- either Magnus got _all_ the Wrecker privileges in the commander package or he was just one lucky motherfragger. Or... spiderfragger, in this case.

"How 'bout you tell me how you ended up in here and I _might_ loosen those chains for ya'," Wheeljack offered as he let his gaze wander around the rest of Magnus' quarters, taking in the bare walls- figures- similarly nightstand- typical- and the-

"What makes you think I want those _grease traps_ anywhere _near_ me, Wrecker?" Airachnid grunted past gritted denta as Wheeljack leaned down to inspect the edge of what looked like a data pad jutting out from under the berth. With one of the grease traps - _'Damn, I need to wash these things'_ \- he pulled it out and up by the exposed edge.

"Keep your..." Wheeljack paused his flicking through the pad with a returned frown as he tried to think of anything that he'd _want_ her to keep on. "Never mind, just hush it, will ya, Air?" Her neck began to ache as it strained to see what he was looking at, and why he was grinning like that. "Or should I say, _'Miss Lunar Cycle 6032?'_ " Wheeljack asked as he turned the front of the data pad towards Air, displaying the cover of a very familiar magazine...

"YOU PUT THAT DOWN _RIGHT_ NOW!" she fought not to stutter in rage as Wheeljack wiggled his eye ridges at her.

_'Primus, even_ Magnus _reads_ Playmech?' It was these times that Air seriously considered why she ever agreed to let them use her in their issues...

"Ah, don't worry, baby. I've already read it," Wheeljack said as he let the pad fall back down, leaning to shuffle through the rest of the stack. "Read it, read it, read it-"

"Jackie," Airachnid interrupted his rote with a long-suffering sigh. "The chains?" There was a flash of a lost look on Wheeljack's face before his mind clicked back into the situation at hand.

"You first." Another sigh to meet his smirk, and when Air's optics opened again their glow brimmed with irritation.

"When I... escaped from the Decepticons, he came across me in the forest. One fated fight later and... he brought back here. That _detailed_ enough for you?"  Wheeljack's optics flicked down and his shoulders lifted in an accepting gesture, and he hauled himself back onto his peds with a servo pushing on the berth.

"Yeah, you ain't the only one been on the business end'a Magnus' _command_ ," Wheeljack said with a bitter edge, one that bought Airachnid's curiosity. 

"How so?" 

"Oh, you name it." Ignoring just about every glaring warning ever printed in a starship manual, Wheeljack picked out a cyberette and lighter from his subspace, craving something to keep his glossa warm while it rolled off on 'The Many Faults of Ultra Fragnus'- the book, musical, movie adaption and soundtrack. "Can't lead a bot, can't lead a platoon, can't hold down more than half a glass'a high-grade-" 

"Can't last more than five klicks in the berth," Airachnid added under her breath, drawing a roar of laughter from Wheeljack just as he was exhaling a stream of smoke. 

"Always havin' to check the lunar position- even when it's  _day_ -" "

Always checking his subscriptions to his weapon monthlies-" 

"Can barely tell an incendiary from an implosive-" 

"Sometimes calls out his  _whip's_ name-!" By the time Wheeljack was stubbing out the remains of his cyberette the coolant on his frame had long since dried, and his frame ached from the residual chuckles. Airachnid had actually managed to forget the pain in her servo wires from being forced above her head, but now that they returned she was aiming to get the  _damn chains_ off ASAP. And... it  _had_ been a while since she knew what a  _real_ Wrecker felt like... 

"Seems like we have a common enemy, Wheeljack..." Airachnid suggested with a tilt in her optic lids that told Wheeljack all he needed to know. 

"Seems we do, honey," he said in a gruff growl as his optics matched her's, servo now brandishing a samurai sword to deal with her restraints. He sawed through her leg chains, and was halfway through the ones around her arms when he made his new offer. "If you're up for a bit'a good ol' fashioned revenge...I can think of a way to  _really_ piss him off..." 

Airachnid didn't even need to ask what it was before she found herself nodding, and eventually being carried off in his arms. 

When it came to Airachnid, a day without having her bent over the hood of a Wrecker ship was a day without sunshine.

 

 

**xx**

 

"Soldier, I don't recall giving you _permission_ to leave the base."

"Because you _didn't_ , sir," Wheeljack replied to Ultra Magnus' scowl carefully as he gave his chassis a last round of shakes, to distribute the coolant more effectively over his frame- most vitally between his legs. With his luck, the engine fluid would hide anything else and mask certain... give away scents.

"Why are your hands smeared with coolant?" To not heave a sigh of relief was like a tug-of-war between two Predacons taking place in Wheeljack's intakes. _'_

_Riiiight, coolant- you keep thinkin' that.'_

"I, uh... recalibrated your ships engines." Not an outright lie- he was sure he recalibrated _something_ in her... "You can expect a 10% increase in _vector thrust_." Now _that_ was a thinly veiled truth, if he did say so himself. Before Magnus' could take a chance to turn the interrogation very awkward very quickly, Optimus made his landing just inside the base opening, and Wheeljack managed to slip away from the other Autobots welcoming him back to drop into the washracks. He wasn't about to take any chances on guessing whether coolant stained more or less than transfluid did...


End file.
